requirefandomcom-20200214-history
MF1.0 - 59 - Rooftop Redux
Magnolia ducked the swinging punching bag – the sound of the song was getting to much to ignore. The aria for a dead planet, the coda. It was the most depressing thing in the entire world – more depressing than suicidal recruits, and certainly more depressing than the Solstice’s pathetic belief that they were actually affecting the world. She slammed the door of the gym and took the stairs up to the roof. She wondered how the other recruits could simply sleep through the penetrating notes and lamenting tones. She knew the answer though – they were once again protected by the simple virtue of being “normal” – whatever that was. Pushing open the door to the roof, she watched as a parade of ghosts marched overhead. Soldiers intertwined with pretty girls, old men on floats and a woman in a carriage. All so pretty, all so happy, all so dead. Someone had explained it to her once, someone now long dead. The ghosts visible in the mirrorfall, they were the strongest happy memory of the person, whatever burned brightest in their memory, a moment that had defined them, or somewhere they belonged. Pilots were always with their planes, captains always with their ships. Parents with their… ‘Reminding yourself of your mortality, little one?’ ‘Go away mother, you aren’t allowed to be here.’ She didn’t give her mother the satisfaction of looking at her. She owed her nothing. She didn’t love her. She didn’t even respect her. ‘Reminding yourself of what you will become?’ the old magpie asked as she spread her wings wide. ‘I will never become a ghost,’ she whispered. ‘I’ve told you that, mother.’ Her lip curled. ‘You’ve said so little to me in my life, you could do me the favour of remembering what I did say to you.’ ‘If mortal is what you choose to be, then mortal words are all they are, and of no interest to me.’ ‘You made me this way,’ she snarled. Heavy footsteps approached from behind. ‘Recruit. You’re slacking.’ ‘Sorry sir.’ Taylor slapped the back of her head. ‘Apologies are for the weak.’ ‘Sorry sir.’ Her mother laughed. ‘Is this how you feel like a man? Hitting little girls.’ ‘You are not even welcome here. If you do not understand the concept of trespassing, I will get someone to translate for you.’ She looked up and watched her mother. The older magpie’s wings melted away, but her clawed feet remained, she grew a little taller and walked over to Taylor. ‘You can’t touch me,’ she hissed. ‘You aren’t allowed.’ Taylor’s hand shot out and grabbed her mother by the throat. ‘You are bothering my recruit.’ ‘I am visiting my daughter.’ He shook her. ‘I said, you are bothering my recruit. Desist, or I will find a way to deal with you.’ Her mother slashed him across the face. Deep cuts bleed freely, but he made no move to mend them. The magpie jumped back from him. ‘You’re just proxy, nothing but ash.’ ‘I am an agent, and you are a disturbance.’ ‘I am the allegro, you are the snail.’ She watched as a machine gun appeared in Taylor’s hand, and he raised it at her mother. This wasn’t the first time it had happened, and this time, like the last time, she made no movement to protect her biological progenitor. She owed the bird nothing. The life she had was nothing to be thankful for. ‘You are going to leave. Now.’ Taylor spat blood as it passed over his lips. ‘Caw,’ her mother said, then disappeared into the night. She stiffened and snapped a salute, awaiting her punishment. He turned and she watched as the cuts healed themselves – it was a talent she was jealous of. ‘You abandoned your training.’ She lifted her head. ‘Sir, the Lady’s singing, I’m sorry sir, it was distracting.’ He lifted his head and listened for a moment. ‘Can you do anything about it?’ Confusion rose. ‘Sir?’ ‘The song is a lament. Can you do anything to make it cease?’ ‘Sir, no sir. It’s…what must be done, sir.’ His uniform rippled and blurred as it refreshed itself. ‘Return to your training, recruit. Do not allow yourself to be distracted.’ ‘Sir, yes, sir.’ She turned towards the door. ‘Recruit.’ ‘Yes sir?’ ‘The trespasser. That is another distraction you must ignore.’ She looked at the night her mother had disappeared into. ‘I try, sir.’ Category:MF1.0